


where there's smoke

by cutterjohns



Category: A Nightmare on Elm Street (Movies 1984-1994), A Nightmare on Elm Street - All Media Types
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Character Interpretation, Alternate Origin Story, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Female Character of Color, Bisexual Male Character, Black Character(s), Canon Rewrite, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Family Drama, Female Character of Color, Human Freddy Krueger, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Interracial Relationship, Marriage, Mental Health Issues, Nonbinary Character, Novella, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Bisexual Character, POV Character of Color, Parenthood, Period Typical Attitudes, Pre-Canon, Prequel, Small Towns, Tragedy, basically Springwood is a shitty place and Freddy and Loretta deserve better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24705535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutterjohns/pseuds/cutterjohns
Summary: He was her best friend, her confidant, the father of her child. But being with a man like Freddy had many pitfalls and challenges, as Loretta soon learned. Especially in a town like Springwood.Or: how Freddy found (and lost) his family.
Relationships: Freddy Krueger/Loretta Krueger
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	where there's smoke

**Author's Note:**

> So here comes a fic I’ve had in the works for a while — or rather, the first in a series of fics. I’ve been extremely invested in the NOES series since late January, and found myself stuck on some ideas. Particularly the idea that Freddy did not start off as twisted as the movies made him out to be, and that his love for his wife and child was sincere. Though I understand Freddy’s brazen, shameless evil in the movies is where his appeal lies for many fans, I am far more interested in telling the story of someone who was warped by his upbringing, circumstances and surroundings. This is something the series has made a couple attempts at doing (see: Freddy’s Dead), but it never really read as sincere to me. If anything, I felt human!Freddy was further demonized for having trauma and mental illness, and disliked the implications that he was born bad (see: NOES5) and would have been a screwed up guy either way. That’s way too cut-and-dry for me, and I don’t like the implications.
> 
> So I’m reworking his backstory — at least, this specific part of it. I’m really going to make his character my own, and the same goes for Loretta and Kathryn / Maggie. I was never really satisfied with the way the series treated those characters either, especially poor Loretta, who only seemed to exist as an excuse to emphasize what a terrible person Freddy was and nothing more. She deserves better than that, so I started from scratch and invented a new, hopefully fully realized character with her own thoughts, feelings and motivations. Furthermore, I wanted to sit down and figure out why such a kind-hearted, level-headed person would settle down with someone as troubled and chaotic as Freddy. Hence — the Freddy and Loretta origin story was born.
> 
> A couple quick disclaimers: I decided some time ago that I was going to portray my Loretta as a Black woman. I myself am white. The reason for this decision is based on a strong desire for diversity in my writing; I felt the NOES series could use a lot more of it, and was disappointed that so many of its characters of colour wound up getting killed off or kept in the background (though that isn’t true for all of them — look at Yvonne and Doc). I felt it was time to put a character of colour in a leading role in a NOES story — and honestly just a horror-based story in general. I also felt it was crucial to show certain events from Loretta’s perspective, both to explain how she came to certain conclusions and to establish her personality and character background. We already know Freddy — it’s about time we got to know Loretta.
> 
> The story begins in the mid-1950s, and while I researched extensively to make sure I told it with a historical accuracy based on the location, I do not want to trivialize or make light of the hardships Black people faced during this era. Similarly, I do not want to fetishize the pain of a group I am not a part of; that would be disgusting and tasteless. There will be references to the discrimination and microaggressions that Loretta faces as a Black woman in a predominantly white town in the fifties / sixties, but I have no intention of bringing these things up solely for the sake of bringing them up. On the other hand, I do not want to pretend these things didn’t happen (and continue to happen, unfortunately) — that would be erasing and sugarcoating extremely serious subject matter, which doesn’t sit right with me.
> 
> I will also say right out the gate that no, Freddy is absolutely not going to kill Loretta in this story, nor in any other story of mine. He is not going to be physically violent towards her, nor will he harbour any malicious feelings towards her. I will be transparent and say we will see a deterioration of their relationship in later chapters — that Freddy’s behaviour will cause some major rifts between them, and things happening around them will lead to their relationship becoming very strained — but my Freddy and Loretta do not have an abusive relationship, nor does Kathryn suffer any abuse. On that note, my Freddy is absolutely **not** a sexual predator, to children or to anybody else. I will be touching on the “Springwood Slasher” stuff of course, but probably not in the way a lot of you will expect.
> 
> I think I’ve said my piece for now and appreciate any of you who’ve stuck with me this long! Without any further ado, here is the story!
> 
>  **Trigger warning** for mentions of racism / discrimination, brief descriptions of animal death / cruelty and implications of child abuse / neglect.

_Well, come on, baby, I love you so_

_I will never, never let you go_

_Come on, baby, will you treat me nice_

_Please don't put my love on ice._

_I love you, baby_

_And I want you to be my girl._

— “I Want You to Be My Girl,” Frankie Lymon & The Teenagers.

* * *

“I’d keep your head down if you were you,” Patty murmured. “Seems like the Son of a Hundred Maniacs finally noticed you exist.”

Loretta slowed to a stop, furrowing her brow in confusion. “Excuse me?” Today marked the beginning of her first summer in Springwood, and she’d been eager to return home. Curiosity now eating away at her, she found herself doing the exact _opposite_ of what her friend had told her to do — peering over her shoulder. “Who are you...?”

She needn’t finish the question. There, sitting on the curb of the nearest convenience store, was a boy she didn’t recognize. There was pale, Loretta thought, and then there was _deathly_ pale. This kid’s skin was completely washed out, save for the splashes of light brown freckles along his nose and cheeks. The circles under his eyes were so deep and so dark they looked more like bruises. Had it not been for the mop of strawberry blonde curls on his head, one might’ve mistook him for a ghost — or maybe a corpse. 

Sure enough, the boy was staring directly at her. His right hand busied itself with a worn lighter, flicking it open, then closed. As their eyes met — her deep brown with his chilly green — he smiled, rolling his thumb over the spark-wheel. Loretta’s gaze caught the small white flash just as Patty gripped her arm, all but dragging her forward.

“I mean it, Lo, don’t go near him! Don’t give him a lick of attention!” Patty hissed. Loretta noticed she didn’t even bother lowering her voice, despite their close proximity to the stranger. “That boy’s sick in the head, has been ever since kindergarten!” 

Without giving Loretta a chance to protest, Patty wrapped an arm around her shoulders and hurriedly ushered her down the sidewalk. Loretta couldn’t help herself, though. Against her own better judgment, she looked back to catch one last fleeting glimpse of this so-called Son of a Hundred Maniacs. As he disappeared from her peripheral vision, she saw that he was still staring at her, unperturbed.

For the first time since moving to this place, Loretta felt a cold chill crawl down her back.

* * *

“Really, I don’t see why you’re so desperate to know about… _him.”_

“I live here now, don’t I?” The receiver for the phone was nestled between Loretta’s cheek and her shoulder. As she spoke, she rubbed her sudsy dishrag in diligent circles over a grease-stained plate. “If there’s someone dangerous in the neighbourhood, I wanna know what’s wrong with him. You said he’s had problems since you guys were little kids?”

There was a pause on the other line before Patty finally answered. When she did, she sounded uneasy. _“‘Problems’_ is putting it _delicately._ Krueger used to trap stray cats and burn ’em to death for kicks.”

Loretta’s grip on the dish tightened.

“He’d find little animals and… and cut ’em open. Chipmunks, rats, you name it. And he’d just…” Another pause, as Patty took a rattling breath. “Leave their bodies out for the rest of us to find. All cut up with their guts hanging out.”

“Jesus Christ,” Loretta muttered. Her mind wandered back to the way that boy — Krueger? — had been looking at her. Those empty eyes…

Bile rose to the back of Loretta’s throat as she picked up a bowl and began scrubbing pasta starch residue off of it, imagining she was wiping that creepy look off Krueger’s ghastly little face.

* * *

It was approximately two weeks later that Loretta picked up her first job in Springwood: a waitress at the recently opened diner, the Crave-Inn. Its owner, Bob Stanton, and her mother, Esther, were on relatively friendly terms — what with Esther doing a number of tailoring assignments for Mr. Stanton — and when Esther mentioned that Loretta had an interest in the food industry, Mr. Stanton had offered to take her under his wing.

Was Loretta grateful for that? Absolutely! She wasn’t going to deny herself experience in the field _or_ the prospect of earning some summer spending money. But she longed to be in the kitchen where she thrived rather than scrambling about on the front-lines, tending to customers. Even those who tipped generously still looked down their noses at her, smiles forced and tight. It was all she could do not to squirm like a cell under a microscope, and by the time closing came around each night, her feet dragged and her shoulders slumped with weariness.

Tonight marked the end of her fourth shift. She’d just finished dumping leftover food into trash cans and taking the dirty plates and glasses to the dishwasher. The bussers were busy, so it was up to her to move trash bags outside and throw them into the dumpster. 

As she made her way towards the backdoor of the restaurant, one massive black bag slung over her shoulder, Loretta huffed. Sweat was beading along her forehead and slipping down the nape of her neck. The air conditioner had been on the fritz all afternoon and she certainly wasn’t looking forward to stepping into the sweltering summer heat. The bins already smelled foul enough when it _wasn’t_ hot enough to fry an egg on the pavement, and she preemptively held her breath thinking about the state of it tonight.

Her worries didn’t extend beyond noxious odours, but maybe they should have. Maybe then she might’ve been ready for what she saw next: the dumpster rattling back and forth a few feet away from her, like there was something fighting to get out. 

Loretta froze. There weren’t any bears that lived around here, were there? Because whatever that thing was, it sure as hell wasn’t a _possum or raccoon_. She took a step back, then another, dropping the garbage bag at her side. She had half a mind to call the head chef out here. Frankie was a veteran, and grappling with a wild animal was surely the very least of his —

The lid of the dumpster went clattering to the ground. Loretta jolted as a familiar head of reddish hair poked out.

“Hi,” the Bastard Son of a Hundred Maniacs said, as if rolling around in garbage was a perfectly natural thing to be doing. “I bet you have about a million and a half questions right about now.”

Loretta was too frightened to reply. Frantically, her eyes darted around, looking for something to incapacitate him with while Krueger climbed all too casually out of the dumpster, wiping debris off the front of his shirt.

“Relax, gorgeous.” A pair of brown work boots hit the ground with a hard _clunk_. “I’m not here to bother you, so you can drop the whole — ”

Panic-fuelled adrenaline had Loretta picking her trash bag and swinging it at him full force. Its deft weight made contact with Krueger’s yappy mug, sending the boy sprawling back-first onto the pavement. Thinking fast, Loretta planted her foot firmly on his gut, pressing down as hard she could. Holding him in place. _Like a bug on a pin,_ she thought, the mental image making her want to shudder.

“If you're not here to creep around after me,” she demanded breathlessly, surprised she was able to speak at all, “then why the hell _did_ you show up?” 

Krueger’s face twisted in an odd way, turning almost as red as his hair. He let out a moan of what Loretta could only assume was pain.

“Hoping to find some rats to skin in there?” the girl demanded, her tone far more biting than before. “You gonna jump the next sorry soul who walks by?” He gave no answer. “You _better_ tell me, or else!"

“And _you_ better get your foot offa me, _lady,”_ Krueger wheezed at last, “or else lil’ _Angel Killer_ might pop up to say hello.”

Loretta stared blankly at him. He nodded downward, smirking. The mortified Loretta scrambled back and grabbed her discarded trash bag, rearing back to whack him across the mug just as he started to sit up. Krueger went down again like a sack of potatoes. 

“You’re _disgusting!”_ Loretta fumed, face burning. “You’re a _sick, vile pervert!”_

She was about to strike once more when Krueger shot up like a dart, grabbing hold of the bag and yanking on it. Loretta panicked, struggled, and soon the two were locked in a game of vicious tug-of-war. Loretta dug her heels into the ground, but Krueger was stronger than he looked. It scared the hell out of her.

“I _said_ I’m not trying to hurt you!” he bellowed. “I didn’t come here to hurt _anyone,_ goddammit!”

“Then what do you _want_ from me?!” she shrieked, and — without any warning whatsoever — Krueger released his hold on the bag. Loretta was sent tumbling backwards, barely catching herself on her now-stinging elbows. Tears sprung to her eyes as she watched the scrawny boy haul himself to his feet, his breathing laboured and animal. Those pale eyes of his were massive when they found hers, glittering in the moonlight. Loretta braced herself, expecting to see some sort of malice there, some sort of putrid lust... 

But there was neither.

“I didn’t come here to hurt you,” Krueger repeated. When he held his hands up, they were trembling as much as his voice. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to grab what I came for and leave.”

In those eyes, she could only see only panic and desperation. Nothing more.

Loretta didn’t realize her eyes were streaming until something wet trickled down her cheek. She sniffled, wiping it with the back of her hand. She couldn’t stop trembling.

“What?” Her voice came out in a worn out rasp. “What could you have possibly wanted from our _dumpster?”_

“Something to eat.”

_Oh._

“You guys don’t usually come out this early.” His head was turned, like he couldn’t bear to face her. Like he was _ashamed_ of himself. “Figured I could get away with taking some leftovers and hittin’ the road like usual.”

Well _shit._

“Our… A/C is broken,” Loretta found herself stammering, getting back on her feet and adjusting her silly little white hat, which had almost gotten knocked off during the scuffle. “They sent us home early ’cause of the heatwave.”

Her heart was racing, still. Intentionally or not, he’d scared her, and she was terribly upset about that. “You know, you didn’t have to come barrelling out of that thing like some goddamn Dracula,” she snapped. “How in God’s name did you _think_ I’d react?”

“I fell in,” Krueger muttered, practically under his breath. “Didn’t hear you coming ’till it was too late.”

Loretta massaged her temples, trying to reign in her growing frustration. “Fine, okay. You fell in. Fair enough. But calling me gorgeous? Telling me about your… _personal business?_ Do you not realize how _creepy_ all that sounds? Especially coming from a boy crawling out of a garbage can?”

“No,” mumbled Krueger, who’d taken a very sudden interest in the ground. His shoulders were hunched. “I guess not.” But it seemed his patience with her scolding was wearing thin. “Look, can I just _go_ already? I don’t need your bosses comin’ out here and chasin’ me off with a broom again.”

Loretta paused in spite of herself, contemplative. He was a total weirdo, just like Patty had warned her, but he was also half-starved. Nothing but skin and bones under those work jeans and that oversized plaid shirt. She couldn’t in good conscience let this continue. The girl took a deep breath, and then —

“Did you want me to make you some soup?”

Krueger’s head jerked up in surprise. The way he was staring at her, you’d think she’d asked him to go skinny-dipping on Mars or something. “Y’mean like…” He gestured at the Crave-Inn, “in there?”

“Nope.” Dragging that smelly garbage bag behind her, Loretta strode past him, standing on her tip-toes to finally fling it into the bin. “I’m taking you home with me.”

Krueger lapsed back into silence, spindly fingers toying with the hem of his shirt. When he finally answered her, his voice was softer than before. “You don’t gotta do that. I don’t wanna scare your folks.”

“So long as you don’t start going on about _‘Angel Killer this’_ or _‘ripping off a fly’s wings for fun_ ’ that, my mama should like you just fine. Now come on.” Loretta began untying her apron. “After I wash my hands we’re leaving. Meet me at the front, okay?”

As she turned on her heel, he called out to her once more.

“Hey, uh…”

Loretta peered over her shoulder, halfway through the door. Freddy Krueger was rubbing the back of his neck, still not looking at her directly. Almost as if he was… shy?

“I never got your name.”

“Loretta,” she told him, and disappeared inside.

* * *

Freddy proved himself to be a mostly amicable presence after that. In fact, Loretta might have gone so far as to describe the silence between them as _pleasant_ while they trekked down the sidewalk together, the golden beams from the streetlights illuminating an otherwise dozy suburban neighbourhood.

Or at least, it _was_ silent, until —

“You’re from Cleveland,” Freddy remarked out of nowhere. Loretta raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah,” she said, drawing the word out slowly. “How did you know that?”

“Accent tipped me off,” he explained, catching her suspicious look and sheepishly ducking his head. “I’d recognize it anywhere. Was born here in Springwood but I moved around a lot. Spent a lot of time in the greater part of the city, so I sorta picked up on it.” When he finally glanced at her again, there was a curious air about him. “Do you miss Cleveland?”

Loretta was surprised he cared enough to ask her such a thing. “’Course I do,” she replied truthfully. “I spent my whole life there. All my friends and family are back there.”

“So why did you leave?”

“Couldn’t afford our old place anymore. Neighbourhoods like mine have been changing to look a lot more like neighbours like yours, if you catch my drift.” Loretta forced a grim, humourless smile. “The landlords started overcharging our rent. Stuck us in overcrowded apartment buildings.”

Freddy listened in silence. In the distance, a symphony of frogs sang their nightly chorus.

“Just wasn’t a good place to stick around,” Loretta finished, looking away. “We got real lucky with this house. Was only twenty-some-odd miles away from where we used to live and dirt cheap.” She frowned at the memory. That real estate agent had been awfully vague with them when pressed for details, but they were desperate enough to take anything by that point.

“And you like it just fine?” Freddy wanted to know.

“I mean, it's the biggest place I've ever lived. Having all that privacy and space to myself is nice." Though she dearly missed her old neighbours, and preferred to stay away from the new ones' prying eyes.

The pair eventually came to a stop at Loretta’s brand new residence: 1428 Elm, a two-story white house with a forest green roof and cherry red door. While Loretta would’ve been grateful to have any old roof over her head, Esther was absolutely in love with it. And judging by the presence of the 1954 Studebaker on the driveway, Freddy would be meeting her very soon.

As Loretta crossed the walkway, she noticed he hadn’t budged. She followed his nervous gaze to the house and sighed.

“Freddy, she won’t have an issue with you if you don’t _give_ her an issue. I need you to trust me on that.” Her eyes lingered on his, to emphasize how serious she was. “Okay?”

He nodded slowly, though he still didn’t look convinced. Supposing he’d just have to see for himself, Loretta fished her keys out of her purse and unlocked the door, pushing it open and gesturing for him to step inside. Freddy seemed bewildered by the gesture, but complied nonetheless. Loretta followed suit, closing the door behind her and calling out —

“Ma, it’s me! I’ve brought home a guest!”

“At this ungodly hour?!” came the exhausted reply from upstairs. Beside her, Freddy tensed. “Loretta Louise, I have some _choice words_ about your timing!”

The telltale _slap-slap-slap_ of Esther Jackson’s slippers punctuated each step as she descended the stairs, coming into view in front of the teenagers. She paused when she caught sight of Freddy, eyebrows shooting up to her hairline. Wordlessly, she turned to Loretta, one elbow resting on the banister as she awaited an explanation. Loretta could practically _feel_ Freddy withering at her side.

“We’re having a late dinner,” she said quickly, stepping closer to her… house guest? Companion? “My friend Freddy missed his and I didn’t want him to go to bed hungry.” She stared at her mother imploringly, hoping she’d read between the lines. “I was just gonna make him some soup before he heads off for the night. Is that alright with you?”

Esther was listening, but her eagle-sharp eyes never left the boy in front of her. It was only when she spoke again — gentler than before — that Loretta saw Freddy relax even the slightest bit. 

“Sure thing, baby. Just try not to make too much noise, okay?” With that, Esther turned and began heading back up the stairs, terrycloth robe swishing around her heels. The yawn in her voice was apparent. “Mama has an early start tomorrow with that dress commission.”

For Elaine Wilson, Loretta remembered. One of her classmates. Loretta didn’t like that girl very much — found her prissy and mean — but money was money, and Elaine’s parents had plenty of that to spare. “We’ll be quiet,” she promised, smiling earnestly. “See you in the morning.”

Once he was absolutely sure Esther was out of earshot, Freddy turned to Loretta, scowling.

“‘Won’t have an issue with me,’ huh? Your ma might as well have called me a piece of shit to my face, the way she was staring me down.”

“This might come as a shock to you, Freddy, but I don’t tend to bring boys home very often,” Loretta informed him dryly. “Especially not _white_ boys, so don't you go biting her head off just for acting a little surprised. Need I remind you she said it’s _okay_ to have dinner at her house _and_ she’s leaving you alone with me. If she really thought you were a piece of shit, you would've been booted out the door two seconds ago.”

He grumbled something she couldn’t make out, crossing his arms and sulking. She might’ve remarked on his supposed lack of gratitude if not for what she caught next.

“Didn’t know you considered me your friend.”

Loretta blinked. Did she? It had felt like the right thing to say at the time — mostly to avoid explaining specifics to her mother. She didn’t know a lot about Freddy, beyond what Patty had told her, and he knew very little about her. 

_But you can change that,_ a little voice in her head pointed out. _He’s eating supper with you. If there’s any time to get to know him, it’s right now._

And whether Loretta liked to admit it or not, she felt she owed him that much.

“You could be my friend,” she said. “Keep behaving and we’ll see how it goes.”

* * *

Talking over soup prep, Loretta and Freddy soon learned, proved to be a surefire way to learn more about another person.

As he watched her melt butter and oil in a heavy-bottomed pot, Freddy commented that he’d never tried soup from scratch before. Loretta replied that she often liked to make food just for the fun of it, and that he was more than welcome to come find her again if he ever needed more.

“You say that now,” remarked Freddy, who was sitting adjacent to her at the small kitchen table, “but I’d start to drive you crazy after a while.”

“You wouldn’t,” Loretta assured him, mixing herbal chicken seasoning and flour together in another dish. She could feel his eyes on her while she worked, but this time — for reasons unbeknownst to her — she didn’t find herself minding as much as before. “Not when I know my cooking’s going to someone who really needs it.”

"So I’m your charity case.”

“No,” Loretta responded patiently, picking up on the underlying irritation in Freddy’s tone. She dredged the chicken with its seasoning, then placed it onto the skillet in a single layer. “You’re my neighbour. I’m being neighbourly.”

“But what if I told you I didn’t live in this part of town? Then what does that make me?”

“I don’t know.” She turned up the stove up to medium high, a certain wryness creeping into her voice. “Aren’t we around the same age? Maybe we’ll be classmates in the fall.”

“Nuh-uh,” he quipped back with all the defiant petulance of a child. “I dropped out last year, so I’m not that either.”

“How come?”

“How come what?” he asked, playing dumb.

“How come you dropped out of school?” Loretta made her way over to the fridge, opening it to retrieve carrots, celery and an onion. “Don’t you want to be able to graduate and go to a nice college?”

Freddy scoffed, rolling his eyes and leaning his elbows on the table. “Yeah, as if any college would take me even if I could afford it,” he retorted. “My grades were crap and I never did well in a classroom setting. Figured I’d do myself a favour and cut all that out of my life while I still had the chance.”

Loretta bit her lip, setting the vegetables on the counter-top, followed by a cutting board and a knife. She supposed she should have inferred from his food situation that college was off the table for him, at least for now, but she’d been trying to avoid assumptions. Would’ve asked anyone else the very same question. “Okay, well,” she tried, “what about work? Have you had any luck with that?”

“Why do you care what happens to me anyway?” The sudden sharpness in his voice prompted her to turn around. Freddy was glaring at her in an accusatory manner, as if she were hiding something from him. “Did someone put you up to this?”

“What? No!” Loretta felt as if she’d just been slapped. “Why on earth would you think that?”

“Because you already know who I am!” Freddy hissed, rising from his chair. “You think I can’t put two and two together and guess what Patty Baker told you about me the other day? I saw it in your eyes when you looked at me! You thought I was gonna hurt you!”

“Because _you_ popped out of the _garbage!”_ Loretta struggled to keep her voice low, not wanting to disturb her mother. “At _night,_ when I was alone! Put yourself in my shoes and imagine how that made me feel!”

 _You can’t,_ she thought. _You can’t possibly_ _imagine what that felt like for me but I want you to at least_ ** _try_** _._

There was a catch in her breathing — one that Freddy must’ve picked up on, because the fire in his pale eyes rapidly simmered down. As he sank back down into his chair, head bowed, he reminded Loretta very much of a guilty dog.

“Fine,” came his soft-spoken grumble. “Okay.”

The apology hung in the air between them, unspoken, but Loretta knew one when she saw one. Her uncle Al — stubborn, ornery man that he was — had been the exact same way. She’d learned not to take such outbursts personally, even when they dug under her skin.

A heavy silence fell over the room as she returned to cooking, flipping the chicken over so it browned on both sides. Around the time she was removing it from the pan and setting it onto a plate to cool, Freddy spoke again.

“I’m a janitor at the local elementary school. The one across the street from where you go to school now.” He sounded embarrassed. “It was the only work I could find.”

“And I’m a waitress,” Loretta reminded him, surprising herself with the warmth that her tone held. “You really think _I_ have any right to judge you for what you do for a living?”

“How’m I supposed to know? People around here will judge you for every little goddamn thing.”

“Yeah, but I’m not from around here, am I?”

Freddy fell silent, and as he pondered his thoughts, Loretta felt it was time to address something else.

“Freddy.” She moved closer towards him, hands clasped together. “I really _don’t_ know who you are.”

He looked up at her, bewildered and blinking.

“There are things Patty told me about you,” Loretta went on, pulling up a chair next to him. The vegetables could wait a minute. “And no, they weren’t good. I’d be lying if I said I _didn’t_ think you were some kind of maniac out to get me at first.”

The mention of the word _“maniac”_ made him wince, his ears flushing. “Wasn’t like that.”

“I know. I — ”

“The only reason I was lookin’ at you in the first place was ’cause I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about how pretty you were,” Freddy blurted, and suddenly everything Loretta planned to say beforehand evaporated before her eyes. “And — and I tried to tell you that earlier and it came out all wrong, and…”

Fumbling over his words, Freddy groaned, burying his face in his hands. Loretta could only stare at him, speechless. It felt as if someone had lit a flame in her chest.

“Great job, Krueger,” she heard him mutter. “You’re a regular casanova.”

On the contrary. Grand romantic gestures — the handful she’d received over the past few years — had done little for Loretta other than putting pressure on her. A shy, awkward admittance of attraction, on the other hand, was something different entirely. Something new, and God help her, she _liked_ it. The fire crawled up her throat, past her lips, and suddenly she was speaking, reaching for him.

“Hey.” Her hand came to rest on his bicep, encircling it and squeezing. He tensed at first, then gradually relaxed. “You really mean that?”

The young man in question shrugged, rolling his shoulders. “Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” He didn’t talk very loud, Loretta noticed. Not unless he was angry or trying to assert himself. “I think you’re fuckin’ beautiful, but that don’t really mean a lot comin’ from someone like me.”

“You shouldn’t sell yourself so short,” she told him. “For all you know, I could like you a lot.”

“Well, do you?”

The corners of Loretta’s mouth perked upward, her eyes crinkling. “I’m starting to.” _**  
** _

* * *

Between the chicken and the vegetables and the egg noodles Loretta added to top it all off, the soup was delicious. She and Freddy talked over it while they ate, with Freddy helping himself to thirds and fourths. It didn’t bother Loretta — the soup had been made for him, after all, and he’d politely offered to chop the veggies for her. In fact, it was his help that had given her a brilliant idea.

“You really want me over to cook with you on the nights we’re not working?” Freddy’s brows raised as he wiped his mouth, wadding up his napkin and dropping it onto the table. He folded his hands over his stomach, leaning back in his seat and peering at her thoughtfully. “And you’re _sure_ your ma won’t blow a gasket?”

“Even if she does — ” And Loretta truly didn’t think Esther _would,_ despite Freddy’s apprehension, “ — she’s just gonna have to get used to you.” She cleared the table, picking up their used bowls and carrying them to the sink. “Sixteen’s plenty old enough to be making decisions for myself, and that includes deciding who I’m gonna be spending my time with.”

“And what about being seen with me in public?” Freddy inquired, rather flatly. “That gonna be a problem?”

As Loretta turned on the faucet to rinse the bowls, she couldn’t help feeling grateful her back was to him so she could ponder the question in peace. Truth be told she _was_ nervous about Patty’s reaction to the news. She’d only known that girl for a few weeks tops — they weren’t very close yet, and for all Loretta knew one big disagreement could be all it took to sink their friendship. But then again...

“I’m not about to live my life avoiding things that make me happy just to make _other_ people happy,” she stated, wiping her hands on the dish towel. “And right now, _you’re_ who makes me happy. Whether or not everyone else accepts that or not is their problem, not mine.”

As if on cue, an arm looped itself around her waist, making her squeak in surprise. Gently, Freddy turned her around to face him. His eyes were softer than Loretta had ever seen them; she couldn’t recall any other time this evening he’d been so relaxed in her company.

“Them’s some serious words, Loretta. You really gonna commit?” A mischievous grin was creeping across his already impish features. Standing so close to him like this, Loretta realized she was the taller one between them, if only by a few inches. “I can be a real handful.” He tapped her on the nose, bringing forth a giggle from her lips. “So you might live to regret that.”

Loretta beamed. Her hands came to rest upon his shoulders, fingertips grazing the faded fabric of his shirt. She’d have to work up the nerve to ask her mama if any of Daddy’s old clothes were still in storage — seemed like there was finally use for them again. “Taking chances is half the fun anyway,” she said brightly, swaying from side to side. “And besides.” She lifted a hand and wiggled her fingers in front of his face. “I got two of these, and they both work just fine."

Whatever lingering strand of doubt floating through her mind turned to dust the instant Freddy grasped her by the wrist and playfully gnawed on her fingers.

* * *

“So what’s going on between you and that boy?” Esther asked when Loretta came down for breakfast the next morning. Sure enough, Esther was seated in her favourite armchair — the one that had belonged to her late husband, with the tweed upholstery and solid beech wood frame. She spoke around the couple of sewing pins in her mouth, wire-frame glasses perched upon her nose as she examined the pattern pieces on her fabric. Loretta was familiar enough with her mother’s process to know she was marking darts. “Last night gonna be a one-time thing or what?”

Loretta, who was opening the fridge to retrieve some orange juice, felt the heat rushing back to her face. Leave it to her mother to figure out what was going on before Loretta even told her. “Um… no,” she replied sheepishly, shutting the door and setting the carton down on the counter. “He’s actually gonna be coming back later this week. We’re making potato salad.”

“Potato salad!” Esther echoed, surprised. In their family, that was a recipe typically reserved for birthdays and holidays. “What’s the special occasion?”

Loretta shrugged, pouring her orange juice into a glass. “He hasn’t tried it before,” was the simple, truthful response. “And I wanna give him nice things to eat ’cause he doesn’t get that anywhere else.”

There was a pause from the other room — one long enough to make Loretta’s heart skip a beat. What if Freddy was right after all? What if Esther had already made up her mind and decided she didn’t like him, or that he wasn’t good enough for her daughter? What if —

Esther poked her head into the kitchen. She didn’t look angry, Loretta discovered, or even disappointed.

Esther Jackson looked terribly _concerned._

“Do you have any idea what’s going on with his home life, hon?”

Loretta shook her head, a guilty pang in her chest. “I wanted to ask him about that but I had no idea how to bring it up.” She locked eyes with her mother, hoping Esther had some sort of answers to the situation. “Only reason I brought him home was ’cause I caught him digging through the trash outside my work. I couldn’t just leave him like that, Mama. He was so desperate.”

“And he looks like hell,” Esther agreed solemnly. Suddenly her scrutinizing of Freddy the night before made a lot of sense. “Whoever his mama and daddy are, they ain’t doing what they ought to be doing for him.”

“So what do you think we should do? What _can_ we do?”

Esther’s dark eyes — the same eyes she’d passed down to Loretta — suddenly held a glimmer of determination that her daughter had come to recognize as Esther’s mind being made up. Her jaw tilted upward.

“Simple,” Esther said, calm and steadfast. “We get that boy outta there.”

**Author's Note:**

> And that’s chapter one! I’m not sure when this will be updated again, as I have other projects I’d like to get out there over the next couple months before school starts again, but I’m excited to finally have this published. Next chapter we will hopefully be getting Freddy’s side of things too — yes, he will have a prominent POV in this story!
> 
> Last few sidenotes: the idea of Loretta being a waitress at the Crave-Inn when she met Freddy is an idea I’ve seen tossed around the fandom for years. I thought the concept worked for what I was going for, so I went with it. Freddy’s janitorial job at the elementary school is a reference to the short story “The Life and Death of Freddy Krueger” by Jeffrey Cooper.
> 
> Comments, kudos, etc are appreciated! Feel free to reach out to me on my Tumblr (listed on my profile) if you’d like to talk!


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